Page 76 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

My breath stopped. I realized who I'd just hit. This was Varlam Petrov. The man who made people twice my size bow and call him Pakhan.

Fear crawled up my spine. I backed up instinctively, but the door was right behind me.

Varlam slowly turned his face back. His gaze was dangerously heavy. I thought he'd wrap his hand around my throat. But instead, he took my hand and pressed my palm back to his face.

"Not enough? Keep going." His voice dropped low. "Hit me till you're done being angry. Just don't say you're leaving again."

My spine went rigid. The vulnerability in those words was so unfamiliar I almost didn't recognize it.

He was strong enough to make danger bow before him. But now he held my hand, waiting like he wasn't sure how this would go. My chest tightened. I'd never seen Varlam like this. His clumsy show of weakness could move any woman.

But I knew I couldn't. I'd already been stupid over this man too many times.

"Why can't I leave?" I bit down on every word like I had to force them out. "I'm not your property. Not something you can lock in a safe. Varlam. I hurt. I get disappointed. And I have the right to decide when to go."

Varlam didn't answer right away. His expression looked painful, like something was stuck in his throat—couldn't swallow it, couldn't spit it out.

"Why?" His face tightened suddenly, like he was being forced to face something he didn't want to. "Because when I think about you packing up, taking Rory, and leaving. Going somewhere I can't see. People there will know you, see you every day, and I won't. My chest tightens up."

What was he saying? I almost thought I'd imagined that sentence.

He always kept his composure better than anyone. He used experience and power to lock down every emotion, never letting anyone see inside. But now I could see it.

"This isn't what I expected. But those damn thoughts keep popping into my head. The more I tell them to stop, the clearer they get." The emotions churning in Varlam's eyes were too intense. I felt like my soul was burning. "When I think about you leaving my life, I get so restless I want to smash everything!"

My heart beat erratically. I'd waited too long for these words. This wasn't a confession, but it was the closest thing Varlam could say to one. Because he'd never been the type to casually bare his heart.

My anger cracked where his words hit it. Bitterness poured out from inside, pushing heat into my eyes.

Varlam's body suddenly lowered. His movement dropping to one knee was so quick I thought I'd hallucinated it.

"Let me make this right." He looked up at me, his burning breath brushing my stomach.

This was a brand-new angle. This man didn't bow to anyone. Even his apologies sounded like orders. But now he was kneeling before me. Silver-gray hair fell across his forehead. The faint lines at the corners of his eyes were sexy and mature.

With his position, one word and HR would reject my resignation. Guards would block the door. The whole city would refuse to hire me. But he didn't choose any of those easy solutions.

He knelt down and put the choice in my hands. I knew what he was going to do next. Heat was already spreading across my skin, unstoppable.

"Don't do this." My voice wasn't as firm as I'd wanted.

"You really want me to stop?"

I could tell—if I said "yes," he'd stop. But I couldn't get the word out. I pressed my thighs together tight, but it didn't stop that shameful flutter.

Varlam didn't push. He just waited. That patience was more terrifying than force.

"I..." My throat was so dry it hurt. "I don't know."

"You tell me to stop, I'll stop." His hands slid up my legs, gathering the fabric of my skirt. "Hold this."

I took the hem with shaking fingers.

"Spread your legs."

I should've refused. I had every chance to refuse. But I didn't. My thighs parted slowly, and his hands clamped around them immediately, locking me in place. His head dipped between my legs, his mouth pressing against me through the fabric of my panties.

Oh God.